Our Wise Men
by LilliaJohnson
Summary: 5 drabbles about unique Christmas Days told by three wise men, and two wise women. JDox, Turla. Oneshot for the holiday season.


_A small break from other projects in light of the holiday season. Written after coming down from a festive sugar high approaching midnight._

_5 drabbles about unique Christmas's in the lives of 4 Scrubs favorites, and 1 somewhat marginalised character._

_Pairings: Jdox, Turla_

_Genres: Family, Holiday, Romance, some light drama, but nothing major_

_Warnings: Slash, implications of kinky sex between two pretty men, sexual references_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but my laptop and a newly bought packet of fudge._

**Perry**

"Newbie... Newbie, I hate this. So very much. No amount of kinky sex is worth this."

"Gaspers! I refuse to acknowledge that statement!."

"But what you fail to take into account, Carol, I rea-he-he-he-lly don't wanna-"

JD threw a handful of toys he'd been collecting onto the couch, though for him it was more of a gentle toss, and placed his hands on his bony hips.

"It's my son's- no wait, according to the frankly _very_ long winded and deeply confusing papers we signed a week ago, OUR son's and daughters third Christmas! This is the first one where they'll actually get what the hell is happening, and will be focusing on something other than their toes or wrapping paper."

Perry sighed and scratched at his chin again. "Do I hafta?"

"If you want me in those angel wings tomorrow night you do, Buster Brown."

Perry had to admit, this was one of those rare moments where his hubby was going to win. Their first Christmas as a family according to law. Jack had been excited for days about his present for Sammy, and couldn't stop telling people that he really had a little brother now. Jenny was trying hard to learn how to sing just so that she could join in with the festivities, and her senseless warbles now ran throughout the house as she tried to mimic Nat King Cole.

And John... he'd been so damn happy just to have it all. And Perry couldn't really say no after all he'd done to make this more pleasant holiday than either of them had experienced in their own childhoods.

So yes, just once, Perry Cox was ready to relent.

Still... that giant Santa beard really itched.

**Carla**

Carla looked over to where Turk was fiddling with his tie, the lights of the tree glinting of the cufflinks of his iron grey shirt. Early morning Mass was still on the agenda for the morning, despite the late nights they had been having- him with work, her with cramps from the baby, and an overall desire from both of them to sleep in.

But it was deeply important to him, a part of him still imbedded into his person, and she wouldn't ask him to give it up for the world.

It took a few seconds to realize he was staring at her quite avidly.

"What- what is it, have I spilled milk on myself again? I swear to God, I am not changing my damn dress again, I don't have any other big ones to go over my belly."

He shook his head. "Just... thinkin' about next Christmas. With the baby." He shrugged. "I'm kinda looking forward to it, actually."

"Can't we just survive this last one alone first? Come home tonight and have a grown-up Christmas dinner? Maybe some fat pregnant Christmas sex? Pretty please?" The joking was weak, but she was exhausted and hormonal. It wasn't going to take much to have her crying all over the place, and Turk adjusting to upcoming fatherhood was almost enough to tip her over the edge and into Weeps-ville.

Turk just smiled slightly and re-tied her tie, still gazing at the swell of her stomach where their daughter kicked, oblivious to the world outside her mother.

**Kelso**

There was a rare peace over the Kelso household that only lasted for mere hours every few years. Enid was napping as the Benzene her husband and son had conspired to slip into her homemade eggnog worked its way through her bloodstream. Harrison was cooing over his new beau, getting him extra plates of food and curling up next to him, talking about their new business growing organic medicinal fruits. This boy, Bob remarked silently, actually seemed nice and normal for a change. No odd piercings, lingering daddy issues, needle marks on his arms or extra growths (that he could see, anyway).

And he didn't have any desire to produce musical theater. That was, in itself, delightful.

And Bob himself was just enjoying the quiet of the cool breeze and the brief lull in the routine, while Sacred Heart was pushed to the back of his mind.

No pretending he was bereft of a soul. No death sentences. No ass-kissing the board and no loud, obnoxious Perry berating him just for taking a coffee break. Nothing but calm and a warm, full stomach. He took a sip of his scotch and sighed happily.

For the first time in years, here was a day that was just... drifting calmly.

Life, for the Yule day at least, was good.

**Turk**

"Bob, will you stop yelling, he meant the it was dark outside, that's it-"

"Pot, kettle, Mum, pot, kettle-"

"Will both of you just watch the chicken-"

"Christopher, come help set the table and pull Nana's head out of the microwave before her hairspray ignites-"

Turk was not a man who lost his patience easily. Sure, when JD had forgotten the time of the Jackson concert when they were in med school he'd flipped out and tried to throttle him, but that was an isolated incident. And yes, when Elliot had nearly burned down the apartment trying to make a cake for Carla's bridal shower, he'd thrown her out on her ass. But _wow_ did he feel like losing it every damn time he walked into this house in recent years.

He should have stayed with Carla and JD and Elliot. Those, after all were the family he wanted to be with. And Chris Turk could hardly be blamed- it was the first Christmas Day he'd spent away from his best pal since College.

But he'd made his choice, and Carla couldn't have come no matter how much she wanted to, having been stuck with the clinic shifts this year. JD was still frightened of his mother. And there wasn't another flight back to California for another day because of all the snow. So instead he sighed heavily, and pulled his Gram-Gram's head out of the microwave, and counted the hours until he could go home.

**Paige**

"Paige."

"Huh..."

"Paige."

"Go 'way, dumbass, I'm sleepin'."

"PAIGE!" And a pillow thumped down on her head. Hard.

"Percival, you creep! I was trying to sleep-"

Her insults died on her tongue when she realized what was in her older brother's hand.

They'd never had any kind of present in their house before. The two Cox children had certainly seen them given to other people, and pretty much in everyone elses' hands but theirs. Their mother didn't care and their father would sooner give away all of his liquor to the garbage man he punched last week than waste his cash buying his children a toy.

But Percival had clearly decided that this year would be different. And she clearly appreciated it. HIs job was pretty bad- just working the check-out at the local store. A pity job, really. But he earned enough to make sure he and his little sister had something for a rainy- or particularly drink-filled- day.

And apparently, December 25th classified as a rainy day. Or maybe he just wanted to be nice to her after last Friday's particularly bad 'punishment'. The break in her leg was going to have her in crutches for two months at least.

But Paige was ripping at the paper before she knew it, and it wasn't a particularly large package, so it took little work, before resting in her hands was... a box. A tiny box, that she opened with a little confused frown on her face.

A necklace. A tiny golden cross hanging from a delicate chain. A very familiar one, too. She'd been eying this at the store where Per worked for months now... she hadn't even _told_...

"Percival... I don't know what to say..." She cleared her throat. Her first present. What does someone say to something this? "I don't have anything to give you," was all she could say, and at 12 years old, Paige Cox was appalled to realize she was crying just a little.

He punched her on the shoulder lightly, and an odd sort of blush appeared on his cheeks. He looked kind of funny like that.

"Just... stop calling me Percival. It's Perry, damn it."


End file.
